Of Mops and Magic
by Boogum
Summary: Collection of Kaito/Aoko one-shots. Chapter 7: Hanakotoba. Excerpt: Kaito shoved his hands in his pockets. "You were the one staring at the car like an idiot. I thought you were interested." "I'm not. It just reminded me of you."
1. In Which Kid is Caught

After midnight writing is always an exploration into the random and cracky. That is all I can say.

* * *

 **In Which Kaitou Kid is Caught**

"I did it." Aoko blinked and her face split into a manic grin that would have done her father proud. "I actually did it. I caught Kaitou Kid!"

The thief in question just stretched out his limbs lazily. No doubt he would have stretched his arms as well, but they were currently being held captive above his head by the handcuffs she had locked around his wrists. Just looking at him all trussed like that made her want to cackle with evil glee. Of all the things to happen during the heist, she had not expected Kaitou Kid to fall into her grasp (quite literally; he'd fallen through the bathroom vent right in front of her).

Yes, Nakamori Aoko was feeling very smug indeed. Until she noticed that Kid was smiling at her.

"W-what are you smiling about?" she demanded, folding her arms and trying not to appear flustered. She was _not_ going to let him see that he had ruffled her with that damned smile of his. Because he was not handsome. Not at all.

Kid glanced up at the handcuffs keeping him chained to the water pipe. "I just never expected you to be so kinky," he said, and then flashed her a wicked grin. "Do you always keep handcuffs in your bag?"

Aoko's cheeks burned. She spluttered something about how it wasn't like that, and that she only kept the handcuffs in her bag for emergencies (because one never knew what prank Kaito would pull next).

"Besides," she added, pointing a finger at him. "It's thanks to those handcuffs that you're now chained to that pipe."

He made a humming sound of agreement. "So, Nakamori-chan, what do you plan to do with me now that you've got me handcuffed at your feet?"

Aoko opened and closed her mouth a few times. What she wanted to tell him was that he would be handed straight to the police, courtesy of her father. Except her mind sort of fizzed when she got confronted with the cheeky little smile playing on his lips, which was just the right combination of flirtatious and suggestive to make her feel like he'd just reached inside her and stirred up a whole basket of butterflies. Combined with his "kinky" comment from earlier, and it was no wonder she went bright red.

"I—you—that's not—" She made a frustrated sound and planted her hands on her hips, raising her chin to the air. "Idiot! I told you it's not like that!"

"Too bad," he said with a mock sigh. "Would have been more fun."

Aoko didn't think her cheeks could go any redder. She vented her frustration by swatting at him with her hand. Or, at least, she tried. Gloved fingers closed around her wrist before she could actually make contact, dragging her back against a male chest. Somehow, Kid had managed to get out of the handcuffs and was now holding _her_ trapped. Her heart pounded. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth, conscious of the solid warmth of his body pressing all up against her.

"Sorry, Nakamori-chan." Kid's voice was like the ghost of a kiss on her ear, light and teasing. "I'm afraid I can't let you catch me tonight."

Aoko could get no words out. Her body was going into overdrive, all butterflies and quickening pulse. She was pretty sure that Kid had broken her. There were no coherent thoughts left in her mind except for the words "male" and "too close, too close, too close", which were repeating over and over. And was it just her or did he smell really, really good?

 _Damn it, Aoko!_ she scolded herself _. Focus!_

Except, by then, it was too late. Kaitou Kid released her and she realised that her wrist was now handcuffed to the pipe. Her cheeks burned again, though for quite a different reason.

"Why you—" she began, curling her free hand into a fist.

Kid effortlessly side-stepped her punch and then tipped his hat to her, bowing with all the grace of a professional magician. "It has been a pleasure, my lady." And then he straightened and flashed her that same cheeky grin. "Next time perhaps we can put the handcuffs to better use."

Aoko blushed and threw a whole string of insults at him, along with the threat that her father would definitely catch him next time, but the thief remained unmoved. Instead, he told her to give his regards to her father, saluted with a casual "ja ne", and then jumped out the window.

Needless to say, neither of the Nakamoris managed to capture Kid the Phantom Thief that night.


	2. Butterflies and Raindrops

**Soundtrack:** Planetarium – Ai Otsuka

* * *

 **Butterflies and Raindrops**

Something wet splattered against Aoko's cheek. She frowned and raised her head to see droplets of water falling from the grey sky, getting heavier by the second. A squeak of alarm escaped her lips. She had not brought an umbrella with her, as it had been sunny when she had left her house that morning to go to school. Judging from her companion's curses, he had done the same thing.

"Really," Aoko said, raising her eyebrow at the messy-haired teen. "You can magic doves and roses out of thin air, but you can't conjure an umbrella?"

Kaito gave her a flat look. "I'm a magician. Not a walking convenience store."

Aoko opened her mouth to respond, but then the rain got even heavier. It was as if the sky was trying to attack them with watery catapults. She could already feel her clothes getting drenched, and her hair was dripping water everywhere. Before she realised what was happening, Kaito grabbed her hand and was dragging her towards the baseball field across the road.

"W-wait!" she exclaimed, half-stumbling as she tried to keep up with him.

Kaito flashed her a grin over his shoulder, still holding her hand. He only stopped running with her when they reached the big tree at the far side of the sandlot; then he just tugged her closer, pulling her right up against the trunk with him. Aoko blushed as she found herself standing so close to Kaito that she could feel the wet fabric of his clothes brushing against her bare arms. His clothes, might she add, which were now sticking to his body like a second skin. It was a disconcerting reminder that he was a member of the opposite sex. A rather attractive one as well, if she had to be honest.

"Well," Kaito prompted, looking down into her eyes with his trademark cheeky grin. "How do you like my umbrella?"

Aoko's brow creased. She glanced up, and her mouth twitched into an answering smile as she realised what he had done. The tree branches were indeed acting like a giant umbrella, letting only a few droplets escape through the thick veil of leaves. It was a magical moment, created by Mother Nature herself. Sharing it with him just made it even more special. Rain pelted down all around them, cutting off the rest of the world so that it was as if she and Kaito were the only two people who existed in the world. Maybe that was why she found herself transfixed by his eyes when she glanced back at his face. Had the colour always been that blue?

"Um, is there something on my face?" Kaito asked.

Aoko blinked. It took a moment to realise that he was speaking to her. "What?"

He just laughed and flicked her lightly on the forehead. "Focus, Aoko."

She rubbed her head, scowling a little. "Idiot! Don't flick me in the head!"

"You were the one who spaced out."

Aoko didn't have a response for that. She decided to avert her face and maintain a dignified silence. No way was she going to admit that she had lost herself in his blue, blue eyes. That was for sappy girls, and she was not a sappy girl. Especially not since the boy who had made her get all dreamy-eyed was her idiot of a best friend. It was too embarrassing.

For a moment they stood in silence, listening to the rain. That was when Aoko became aware of Kaito's gaze. She folded her arms under her breasts in a defensive gesture, noticing that he was eyeing her up and down with an appraising gleam in his eyes. Nothing good had ever come from that expression.

"You know," Kaito said thoughtfully. "You should get caught in the rain in your school uniform more often."

She frowned. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Mother Nature has her tricks as well," Kaito said, gesturing to her chest.

Aoko glanced down and realised that her shirt had gone completely see-through, as had the thin camisole underneath. The outline of her bra was plain to see. It seemed that Kaito's clothes weren't the only ones to become a second skin.

Her blush darkened. "Bakaito! " She quickly moved her arms so that her modesty was more protected.

The shameless magician just chuckled and leaned closer, propping his arm on her shoulder. "I guess I was wrong. You really _are_ a girl."

Now her ears were burning. Gods, he was so annoying! She made a few spluttering sounds that might have included the words "pervert" and "if I had a mop", among a few more creative expletives that she had picked up from her father. Kaito remained unmoved. In fact, he seemed more entertained than anything.

"Aoko, Aoko," he said, waggling his finger at her. "I don't think that is proper language for a lady."

"I'll show you proper language in a minute," she growled, clenching her hands into fists.

Kaito smiled charmingly. He was very close now. It occurred to her that she should probably be protesting about this fact, but instead her cheeks just went rosy and a few butterflies stirred in her stomach. Damn it all. Why couldn't she ever stay mad at him?

"I think the rain is dying down," he said, pulling back slightly.

She blinked and glanced towards the sky. Sure enough, the rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle. Aoko let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. She didn't know why she felt so disappointed that the moment had been broken. It was just Kaito.

Kaito who was now heading away from the tree.

"Hey, wait!" Aoko called, jogging to catch up. "Geez, Kaito. Why do you always walk off like that?"

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You always catch up."

"That's not the point!" she said, poking him in the chest. "You're supposed to walk _with_ me. Not go off on your own and make me chase after you all the time."

He flashed his teeth in a grin. "Maybe I like being chased."

And, as if to prove his words, he flipped her skirt up with a lightning-fast tug. Aoko saw red.

"KAITO!'

The magician cackled—actually _cackled —_ and then sprinted off down the street, even as Aoko charged after him swearing bloody murder. Just another day in their friendship, really. The only thing missing was the mop. Still, for all that Kuroba Kaito could be the most annoying boy on the planet, he was still her closest friend.

And she had a horrible suspicion that she might have fallen for him.


	3. The Gamble

**Soundtrack:** Dareka Umiwo - Aimer

* * *

 **The Gamble**

His heart stops.

The jewel is cold in his hand. His glider is already extended, white wings spread to take flight. He could jump—vanish into the darkness like the phantom he is claimed to be. Just another miraculous escape from Kaitou Kid, they would say. But he cannot move. He is frozen. There is not enough air getting into his lungs, or maybe he's just holding his breath, because this cannot be happening. Not now. Now like this.

Aoko is standing in front of him, illuminated by the full moon that glows all around her like a silver backdrop. She is an unexpected star on his moonlit stage, and all he can do is stare. Her eyes are wide. Blue like the ocean. Blue like the jewel in his hand.

And there is a gun digging into her temple.

Kid inhales and then lets out a breath. The blessed oxygen clears some of the fog from his mind, allowing him to focus on the black-garbed man that stands behind her. He lets his glider fold back into itself with a click of a button. Plans to salvage the situation are made and rapidly discarded. He feels like a child smashing through a castle of building block thoughts. None of his plans are good enough. His next act needs to be perfect, because the cost of failure is too high. There is no room for error, no room for weak tricks.

He cannot let Aoko get hurt.

Snake smiles and speaks clichéd, villainous lines. Kid feels his mask crack as the words, normally laughable, pierce through to the boy who exists behind the monocle. Anger. Fear. The emotions slip through him like poison, chipping away at his poker face. He does not feel like Kaitou Kid in that moment; he is just Kuroba Kaito, and he is scared. If the hostage were anyone else, he'd be two steps ahead of his adversary by now, having already figured out how to save the girl and keep the gem from falling into the wrong hands. But this hostage isn't some nameless civilian. This girl is Aoko. Mop-wielding, flat-chested Aoko, who screams insults at him when he annoys her, and who blushes so adorably.

Aoko who has been his friend for years, and whose name is whispered with every beat of his heart.

Kaito tightens his fingers around the jewel enclosed in his fist. He has not had a chance to check if it is Pandora yet. He is still trying to come up with a plan to get Aoko away from Snake that doesn't involve putting her at risk. The gun has a set trigger; the bullet will be unleashed at the slightest pressure. He cannot use his own card gun to knock the weapon away. He cannot seem to do anything, because his mind keeps returning to the image of her lifeless body splattered in crimson, and then the panic tightens around him again, freezing him in indecision.

If he is too slow. If he miscalculates…

"What are you waiting for?" Snake growls. "Hand over the jewel or the girl dies."

Kaito closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Then he tosses the jewel up into the air. It is a gamble: a heads or tails flip that will end in life or death, hope or despair. The gem flashes blue, light spilling out like a kaleidoscope as moonbeams pass through the sapphire. Kaito does not pause to see if a different colour shines within; he is already moving, reaching for the warm body that Snake holds captive.

He only has one chance. The distraction has to work. The trigger must not be pulled.

Snake stares up at the sapphire, mesmerised by its shining descent. His hold on Aoko loosens and then he releases her as he fumbles to catch the jewel. It is only a fraction of movement, a few split-seconds where the gun is not aimed with deadly intent, but it is enough. Kaito steps between the line of fire and enfolds Aoko in his arms, pulling her close. Her body is trembling. There is no time to comfort her. Instead, he spins around so the white cape billows around them both like a shield. His hand emerges from the snowy folds, wielding the card gun. A shot is fired. The ace of spades connects and the jewel spirals away from Snake's outstretched fingers, glowing red in its centre before plummeting over the edge of the roof.

Kaito's blood turns to ice.

A second shot rips through the night. Kaito moves in a blur, cape once more billowing around him. He lurches. Someone is screaming, and it takes him a moment to realise it is the girl he is still clutching protectively to his chest. There is crimson spilling onto his hands, onto her clothes, but it is not her blood. It is coming from him.

"Run," he tells her.

Aoko's eyes are wide and edged with fear. Blue like the ocean. Blue like Pandora.

"Run," he repeats, even as his face screws up in pain.

The wound is a burning, throbbing mess, pumping out blood at an alarming rate. He can hear Snake advancing upon them, gun cocked at the ready. They will both die here at this rate.

"Damn it, Aoko, just get out of here!"

She shakes her head. "I won't leave you."

Kaito curses under his breath. He doesn't know if she has realised his identity or not, but in that moment he can't even bring himself to care. Instead, he fires a few shots over his shoulder at Snake and then pulls her with him towards the side of the building, ignoring the pain that explodes through his nervous system with every movement.

"Hold on tight," he urges.

Her arms wrap around him. A third shot is fired, but by then they are already falling. For a moment there is only the wind rushing in their ears and the gravity tugging at their bodies; then the white wings of his glider burst forth. Kaito grunts as he gains control of their descent. Somewhere below, he knows that Pandora is glowing blood red within its sapphire encasement. He also knows that he is no state to retrieve the jewel. Everything has gone so wrong, and he doesn't even know where to begin salvaging it.

If only the hostage had not been Aoko. If only the jewel had not been Pandora.

Aoko tightens her grip on him. He can feel her heart beating in her chest, pounding fast with adrenaline and fear. Just like that his frustration seems to melt. He still doesn't know if tonight can be considered a victory or a loss, but he does know that he cannot bring himself to regret his actions. Not now, and not ever.

It had been a gamble: risk the jewel to save the girl or risk the girl to save the jewel. He is glad that he is not holding a cold lump of stone.


	4. The Rose

**Soundtrack:** Moon Sequel - Valshe

* * *

 **The Rose**

He gives her a red rose.

Aoko accepts the gift out of habit rather than from pleasure. Conjured flowers are a common occurrence in her life. Kaito is forever handing them to her—an offhand apology here, a charming grin there. Her time with him is captured in coloured petals; it has been from the moment they first met as children outside the clock tower. Perhaps that is what makes her pause. Kaitou Kid reminds her so much of her friend in that moment.

She cannot see the thief's face clearly. The shadow cast by his top hat and the reflective glass of his monocle help to shroud his features. All she sees is the hint of his smile; it whispers of a boy with messy hair and big blue eyes. A boy who bowed so gracefully, just like Kid, and conjured a rose out of thin air to welcome her into his world of magic.

" _I'm Kuroba Kaito."_

Her heart quickens. She doesn't know why, but she feels an odd urge to reach out and touch his face. The disguise bothers her now—more so than it has ever done. Everything else about him glows bright in the moonlight; it doesn't seem right that only his face should remain hidden. She wants to see what the shadows protect. She wants to know if there is a reason this phantom with folded wings reminds her so much of her friend.

She is nervous and confused and her stomach is full of butterflies.

His hand closes around hers before she can remove the monocle. The fabric of his glove is soft against her skin, and she feels an unbidden thrill at the point of contact. He is warm and tall and so very male. It is an odd thought for her to have, but it slips into her mind all the same. Perhaps it is because they are so close now. Perhaps it is because his touch, his voice, even his smell, all remind her of Kaito.

She finds herself moving closer.

"Nakamori-san."

There is a hint of warning in his tone. She ignores it and leans up on her tiptoes, still clutching the flower in her free hand. The soft catch of his breath is like a whisper in her ear; she can feel him tense, feel the way he hesitates between fleeing or following whatever it is that has ensnared them in this moment of dangerous proximity. He is running out of shadows. She forgets why she stepped closer in the first place. Her intentions are tangled threads all mixed up with butterflies and a pounding heart. Maybe he feels the same.

Maybe that's why neither of them move.

Instinct tells her to close her eyes. It is only a second later when their lips touch. His mouth is soft and hesitant, but she feels the kiss right through her body. It is exhilarating and new and just so utterly right. She has never felt so calm. She has never felt so alive.

She definitely does not feel like she is kissing a stranger.

"Aoko."

He breathes her name like a prayer. She knows she only has to look up to see his face—to know for certain if her suspicions are true—but then there is a shout from below and just like that he is gone. She watches his silhouette fade into the moonlight, one finger touching her lips where she can still feel the imprint of his kiss.

There is no proof to confirm her theory. Nothing but a rose and a hesitant first kiss. Somehow, it is enough.


	5. The Art of Confessing

This was written for **Poirot Café's** Super Short Contest #9: Rehearsal.

* * *

 **The Art of Confessing**

* * *

 _Confess in a way that will move her heart._

* * *

Confessions of love aren't supposed to end in mop chases. Kaito is aware of this—even as he dodges another swinging attack—and it makes him wonder how he could fail so badly. It's not like he is stupid (most people, even the ungenerous ones who just find him annoying, will admit he is a genius). It's not like he doesn't know how to be charming either (Kaitou Kid, his alter-ego, is renowned for being the epitome of charm and receives daily marriage proposals and proclamations of love).

Except Nakamori Aoko is not some random girl.

Kaito can fake being charming, but he can't with Aoko. He can draw on his Kaitou Kid persona to sweep females—and boys, if he really wants—off their feet; he just can't with Aoko. She's known him too long. Knows him too _well_.

So there was no act. No calculated phrases to woo. Kaito had been Kaito, and Aoko had been Aoko, and somewhere in amongst all that the words "I want you to be my girlfriend" got construed as something different. He got flustered, she blushed (from anger, not lovely embarrassment), and the squishy end of a mop greeted his face.

Kaito keeps running.

* * *

 _Get a girl's perspective_

* * *

"You're a girl."

Ran blinks at Kaito. Yes, she is a girl. The little crease on her brow asks him why he is stating the obvious. In fact, it asks why he is even in her dojo. The two of them do not meet often, though she is one of the few people who know he is Kaitou Kid, thanks to the assistance he gave to her once-shrunken boyfriend in bringing down the Organisation. But that is not the point. The point is that she is a girl, and that means she can help him.

"How would you like a guy to confess to you?" he asks.

Ran tells him some nonsense about the Big Ben in London, and deductions, and reading hearts. Kaito realises that this is how Kudo confessed. How typical of that Sherlock Holmes geek.

"Forget the clock," Kaito says hastily. "Look, I'm really just here for some advice. I told Aoko I like her, but she thought I was kidding and made fun of me, and then I might have got annoyed and called her a flat-chested boy pretending to be a girl, and then she chased me with a mop, and—" He pauses, takes a breath. "I just need some advice."

"Yes," Ran says, staring at him as if he has developed a second head. "You really do."

So she tells him that he needs to be honest. Speak from the heart. _Don't_ call Nakamori-san flat-chested.

"But she is," Kaito points out.

A foot connects with his jaw, and Kaito is sent reeling. Girls, he decides, are far too sensitive.

* * *

 _Practice, practice, practice._

* * *

"What happened to you?" Hakuba asks.

Kaito grunts. He's holding an icepack to his face to help stop the swelling from Ran's round-house kick. His only consolation is that she didn't get his nose. The same could not be said when Sera Masumi got her revenge on him.

Hakuba frowns. "You really should stop antagonising people. I suppose it was Nakamori-san with a mop."

Kaito represses a snort. It sounds like something from _Cludo_ : Nakamori Aoko, in the classroom, with a mop.

"It wasn't Aoko," he says. Though she did chase him with a mop.

"Then who?"

"Why does it even matter?" Kaito snaps.

Hakuba is always so nosy. Not for the first time does Kaito wish the blond came with an "Off" button. He is about to tell his classmate to go away, but then he pauses. It occurs to him that Hakuba might actually be of assistance. The half-Brit is priggish and stiff, but he does have his own sort of charm and seems to do well enough with the female population. It is worth a try. Hakuba is not so enthusiastic. At least not when he discovers what helping Kaito involves.

"I'm not going to let you put a mask on me that looks like Nakamori-san!" Hakuba exclaims, inching away from Kaito as if the messy-haired teen is diseased.

"But it'll feel more authentic this way," Kaito argues. "I can't confess properly to you when I'm looking at your grumpy face."

"I don't want you to confess to me at all!"

Kaito pulls out his biggest puppy-dog eyes. "Hakuba, you did say you would help me practice."

Hakuba actually didn't, but Kaito is persistent and good at ignoring details when it suits him. Plus, Hakuba is currently handcuffed to the railing, so the blond doesn't have much choice but to stay put until Kaito decides to free him. The ex-phantom thief has always had a knack for getting people to cooperate with him. He calls it a gift; others call it a decided lack of morals.

"Kuroba-kun, I swear once I get out of these handcuffs I'm going to haul you to the police station, and—"

"Alright, alright," Kaito cuts in, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "We'll dispense with the mask. Geez, everyone is so touchy today."

Hakuba just sighs. It is the sigh of a man who wonders if there really are gods out there and, if so, why those gods have abandoned him to the clutches of a merciless magician. Not that Kaito notices.

"Okay, let's start from the top," Kaito says. "Remember, you have to react how Aoko would."

Hakuba glares. Kaito is glad there are no mops handy.

* * *

 _If all else fails, try again._

* * *

Aoko stands with her arms folded across her chest. She looks irritated and so darn cute. "What do you want, Bakaito?" she asks, scowling. It is clear she has not forgiven him.

Kaito can't remember the confession he practiced with Hakuba, nor can he remember the advice Ran gave him (except that it was a bad idea to bring up the subject of breasts—or lack of—in a confession). Mostly, he is just annoyed, because he got kicked in the face for this girl and she is still oblivious to his feelings.

So he grabs her face and presses his lips against hers. "Ahoko," he mutters, "can't you see that I'm trying to say I like you?"

Aoko blushes. It's not the most romantic confession, but it does the trick. At the very least, she does not chase him with a mop.


	6. Of Mornings After

This was written for _Poirot Café's_ Themed Writing Competition #23: Mornings. I might have toed the T rating a little.

* * *

 **Of Mornings After**

Sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains. Aoko groaned. Her head was pounding. She patted around blindly in search of the blanket so she could pull it up over her face and escape the offending brightness. Something soft yet hard made contact with her fingers. She stilled. That thing did not feel like blanket. It was too warm, too defined, too—

Aoko opened her eyes. All the breath got caught in her throat. That was a boy's back she was touching. A boy's _bare_ back. She pulled her fingers away from his skin as if burnt, her brain still struggling to process the situation (her thoughts had got jammed somewhere between "boy" and "bed"). The blanket was tangled around his waist (thank the gods, because she did _not_ want to know if he was just as naked down there as he was on top), but a glance upward only revealed a mess of brown hair. Far, far too familiar brown hair.

Oh no. No, no, no. This was _so_ not happening.

The boy made a soft sound and rolled towards her, burying his face into the pillow. His arm somehow snuck around her waist. The shock of skin on skin informed her panic-dazed mind that she wasn't wearing anything. Their legs touched, and she could feel the warmth of his body pressing against her side. Aoko let out an odd squeak. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and her breath came short and fast, almost hyperventilating. There was a boy in her bed. She was naked, and there was a boy in her bed, and—

But wait, this wasn't even her bed. It wasn't her _room._ Because it was—it was—

Aoko stared at her sleeping companion. Between the veil of his messy brown hair, she could make out features that she could have traced blind. The mouth that always curved into an impish grin, the nose that scrunched in that haughty ( _not_ cute!) way of his when he was annoyed, and the eyes that would have been a vivid blue had they not been closed. Yes, she knew this boy's features well. Just as she was able to recognise that this was his bed, found in his bedroom.

A panicked little sound got caught in Aoko's throat. The haziness that had made her brain too sluggish to put the pieces together was finally wearing off. Her head was pounding, her mouth was dry and tasted funny, and she was naked in bed with Kuroba Kaito, her neighbour and childhood friend. So, Aoko did what any self-respecting girl would when waking up to find herself in such a situation: she screamed. Loudly.

"Get off!" Aoko shrieked, shoving at the boy who had dared to snuggle against her.

Kaito groaned, then let out a yelp when he almost toppled off the bed. He caught himself and swung into a sitting position, blinking at her in confusion. His hair was sticking up everywhere. She got an eyeful of, well, _everything_. Her cheeks burned a brilliant shade of red, and she quickly clutched the blanket to her chest, ducking her head to avert her gaze. There was far too much naked male going on in front of her right now.

"A-Aoko, what—" Kaito made a grab for the sheet.

He still sounded a bit slurred and half-asleep, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he realised what must have happened, just like she had. A soft curse escaped his lips. She chanced a glance at him from under her lashes and saw the colour drain from his cheeks. His eyes were wide and fixed on the blanket she was holding to her breasts. Yep, there it was: the epiphany of doom.

"We didn't?" he asked in a hesitant voice.

"I don't know," she wailed, wishing that the bed would swallow her whole. "I can't remember!"

Her memories from last night were fragmented and hazy at best. There had been alcohol. There had been celebrating. Everyone else had left. Kaito had annoyed her, and she'd tussled with him on the floor, and then—

 _Stomach flutters. Heart pounding. His face too close. His body warm and pressing against her. A kiss…_

Aoko blushed and bit her lip. "You kissed me."

She said it accusingly. Kaito's cheeks bloomed with pink.

"You kissed me back!" he retorted.

"Well, you took it further!"

"I did not! It was your grabby hands that pulled off my shirt first!"

"Grabby hands?" Her cheeks darkened. "Please, you were the one putting your hands all over _me_!"

"You weren't exactly complaining!"

Aoko opened and closed her mouth a few times, unable to think of a comeback. Okay, maybe there had been some mutual groping (or a lot), but it was Kaito's fault they had ended up naked in his bed. She was sure of it.

Kaito cursed again and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. Let's just—let's just calm down. If we just think about this clearly, I'm sure we'll be able to figure out if we—if we—" he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

The words he was too embarrassed to speak lingered between them, silent and as big and awkward as an elephant wearing a ballerina costume. Aoko groaned and hid her face against the blanket.

"Why can't you remember?" she cried.

"Why can't you?" he snapped.

She hit his arm in a petty vent of frustration, though not hard. "Don't try to put this back on me!"

"Then don't put it on me!"

There was a long moment where they just glared at each other, and then Aoko sniffed. Kaito half-reached towards her in dismay.

"Oh, geez, don't start crying. I was just—"

"I'm not crying!"

She narrowed her watery eyes at him, daring him to say otherwise. Kaito didn't dare.

"Look, neither of us can remember much," he said, not quite meeting her gaze. "We might not have, you know—" he made an awkward gesture with his hands, then let out a breath. "Maybe we just … fell asleep."

"Naked?"

He blushed. "Well, uh, there is that."

Aoko groaned again. If only there had been no alcohol. She should have learnt her lesson from seeing her father behave like a fool when he got drunk, but no. She just had to get caught up in the celebrations, and Kaito just had to annoy her, and they just had to end up on the floor. Making out. Heavily.

Her heart thumped a little faster. More memories were beginning to fall into place. Hands frantically tugging at cloth. Breathy gasps and toe-curling kisses. The stumbling, unable-to-get-enough-of-each-other trek to the bedroom.

Aoko snuck another glance at Kaito from under her lashes. She felt a bit odd, almost hyperaware, as if there was an electric charge in the air that connected her to the boy sitting opposite her. The blanket covering her suddenly seemed too thin. Stupid thoughts kept popping into her brain, like the fact that his body was indeed as lithe and sinewy as it looked (her hands still remembered), or that there was a spot near his ear that elicited all sorts of interesting responses if stimulated in the right way.

Something stirred within her. She shifted uncomfortably, biting down on her lower lip. Kaito seemed just as on edge. He stared at her with darkened eyes; only a thin circle of blue remained around his pupils. Neither of them could remember what exactly had happened in his bedroom, but it was clear that they remembered enough.

Enough to know that it wasn't the alcohol that had kept them kissing after the initial moment of contact. Enough to know that their current frustration and embarrassment didn't erase the lingering traces of desire that rippled through their veins.

Blood pounded in Aoko's ears. "Kaito."

Her voice sounded strange even to her. A little too husky. A little too … _something._ Kaito responded to the tone as she knew he would. He leaned forward, hesitating just a moment before he brushed his lips against hers. There were no fireworks, no explosions of magic as fictional heroines professed should happen when kissing the boy one (secretly) liked. His mouth was soft and caressing, teasing her into wanting more.

So much more.

Yes, that was a better description. His kisses were addictive. Perhaps that was why she and Kaito had lost control last night. Perhaps that was why she had wanted to experience it again—that sweet, drug-like feeling that made her shift a little closer; that made her thread her fingers through his hair and open her mouth to him, deepening the kiss until she felt weak-limbed and like her thoughts were slipping away into blissful incoherency.

Her back hit the mattress. Aoko made a soft sound pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard. Kaito leaned over her, his hair tousled more than ever. He was also trying to catch his breath.

"Um," she said.

Oh yeah, real intelligent. Just say "um".

"Sorry," Kaito said, doing better with actually formulating words. "I got a bit carried away."

"No."

The word was out before she could stop it. Heat spread across her cheeks.

"I mean," she continued, "I like you."

Panic made her eyes widen. Oh, gods. That was too honest! Abort, abort!

"It!" she hastily tried to correct. "I liked it!"

Kaito just laughed. "Baka," he said teasingly. "I like you too."

She flushed and bit her lip, embarrassed and pleased in one. Kaito's cheeky smile faltered a little, and he shifted to put more space between them.

"Maybe we should postpone this conversation," he told her. "At least until we're dressed in more than a sheet and a blanket."

She blinked. "Huh?"

He poked her lightly in the cheek. "Blame it on the fact you're too cute. I'm struggling to keep my self-control together as it is."

Her blush darkened. Oh.

"Of course," he said with an impish smile, "if you were interested in recreating our missing memory of last night, I wouldn't complain."

Aoko's eyes narrowed. The next second a pillow hit him in the head and she was on her feet, blanket wrapped tightly around her body. Kaito sighed and flopped back against the bed.

"Figured as much," he muttered.


	7. Hanakotoba

This was written for Wxnderland as a gift to celebrate being my 200th reviewer for _Switched_. The prompt was "mustang, flirt, impulse". I'm a little rusty with writing KaiAo, but I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Soundtrack:** Arrietty – Cécile Corbel

* * *

 **Hanakotoba**

The car was bright yellow. Maybe that was why it drew Aoko's attention. She'd never really cared much for cars, but this one was big, flashy and obviously foreign. It was like a sunflower plonked among concrete, spreading its bright petals wide and calling all the bees with its LOOK AT ME out there-ness. Actually, it kind of reminded her of Kaito.

Said boy bumped into her back. His chest was warm and solid, resting against her for a moment before he stepped away to put space between them. "Why'd you stop?" he asked.

Aoko gestured at the car. "That."

"The Mustang?"

"Mustang," she repeated, testing the word on her tongue like a new flavour. "So, that's what it's called."

Kaito gave a low whistle and moved closer to the car. "You don't see these around very often. Must have cost the owner a fortune."

Aoko scrunched her nose. The little wrinkles tipped Kaito off that she didn't have much understanding about cars, let alone foreign ones (hey, she was seventeen and lived in Tokyo; it wasn't like she needed to know). He explained that American cars like the Mustang weren't popular in Japan because they were so expensive to purchase and maintain. Plus, there was the whole issue with the car being designed to be driven on the right side of the road instead of the left. It just made things overly complicated.

Her nose scrunched more. "You know too many useless facts," she informed him, and carried on walking.

Kaito shoved his hands in his pockets. "You were the one staring at the car like an idiot. I thought you were interested."

"I'm not. It just reminded me of you."

The words were out before she could stop them. Her cheeks warmed a little and she quickened her pace, hoping that he had not caught her blush. Unfortunately, Kaito never missed anything. He didn't comment on her pink cheeks, but he did ask her why the heck she had decided a yellow Mustang was like him.

"That's weird even for you," he told her bluntly.

Aoko puffed her cheeks out in irritation (but which was actually from embarrassment). "It's not weird. People associate their friends and acquaintances with objects all the time."

"It's a car," he said, still, looking unimpressed. "A big, American car. How is that like me?"

Aoko made a frustrated sound. "Why does it matter? Just drop it!"

But this didn't satisfy her friend either. He easily caught up to her with his longer legs and kept prodding and poking, trying to get the truth out of her. Stupid Kaito with his stupid ego. She knew that was all it was; he could never let the offhand things she said go if it involved him in some way. He just had to _know._

"Aokoooo," he whined, looping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her in so that she couldn't escape. "C'mon, just tell me why. I'm really curious now."

"No," she said, wriggling in an attempt to break free of his hold.

"But—"

"You'll just laugh at me."

His eyes lit up. "Ah, so it's embarrassing."

Aoko puffed her cheeks out again. Damn her and her big mouth. She really needed to get a handle on that habit of blurting out whatever popped into her head.

He poked her in the cheek. "You're blushing."

She glared and swatted his hand away. Oh, so now he decided to comment on her blush. The jerk.

"I'm going to hurt you if you don't let me go," she informed him with uncharacteristic grimness.

He raised his eyebrow. She hardly ever gave warnings. Most of the time she just retaliated with whatever was close and he would either dodge in time or get knocked over by her weapon of choice. The problem was that they were in the middle of the street and she had nothing on hand. Hence, she would have to use her fists and feet. Hence, she'd just end up closer to him (and probably looking like a violent, crazy person).

"Is that a challenge?" he teased.

To her displeasure, he even flashed a cheeky grin, as if her threat was the equivalent of a cute little kitten trying to roar. She hated it when he smiled like that. Hated and loved it, because it always made her stomach flutter and her pulse quicken, and then her brain would turn to mush and she'd blush or, even worse, blurt out things like—

"Oh, fine," she huffed. "It's because the car is yellow and flashy, and that reminded me of sunflowers."

Kaito blinked. "What do sunflowers have to do with it?"

Her blush darkened. Why, brain? Why did her brain always have to turn on her and make her blurt out embarrassing things?

"Never mind," she muttered, trying to pull away.

"Aoko—"

She made a frustrated sound. "What do you think, idiot? Because sunflowers remind me of you!"

He blinked. Then he blinked some more. She could practically see the cogs turning in his head, trying to figure out why she associated sunflowers with him. It would have been fine if he was just an ordinary teenager, but Kaito was a genius. There was no way that he wouldn't piece it together—not if he really put his mind to it. He'd known her for too long; had figured out all the codes to break into and understand her thought process. It was why she had not wanted to confess the truth.

It was why she had no doubt that he would soon understand why she looked at sunflowers and thought of him.

Because that was Kaito: painfully bright at times—so radiant that, in her lowest moments, she felt like a pathetic weed next to him—and somehow appearing so much taller than everyone else. His ambitions, his magic, his intelligence; he couldn't do anything small. He was a big, stupid sunflower who demanded LOOK AT ME just like that out of place Mustang. She'd been charmed by him as a child; she was pretty sure she was well on her way to falling in love with him as a teenager.

And that just plain sucked.

The thing with sunflowers was that they only followed the sun. Aoko was not a sun. She was awkward and flat-chested and childish. She was a weed that no one wanted, let alone him. They were friends, but he'd never suggested that they could be more. He'd mocked her whenever she'd hinted that she might have feelings for him.

It hurt. It really hurt.

So Aoko huffed and kicked him in the shin. Kaito made a sound of pain and released her, just as she had anticipated.

"What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his leg.

She raised her chin. "I warned you what I'd do if you didn't let go."

He scowled, but she didn't give him a chance to respond. Instead, she marched ahead and tried not to think about how upside down and miserable she felt now. Being with Kaito was always like this: a rush, a building bubble of excitement, and then reality would dig into her like a pin and everything would pop and deflate.

Of course he would never look at her in that way. Of course it wasn't flirting when he touched her, teased her, or grinned at her in that cheeky way of his. She was just being silly.

Yet even then Kaito was there to cheer her up again. He had a knack for it, always sensing when her mood had dropped or when he had pushed her too far. He made a blue rose appear out of thin air and offered it to her with a magician's flourish. She was charmed, just as he had known she would be. A smile tugged at her lips.

"Idiot," she muttered. "Do you really carry blue roses around with you all the time just so you can use this trick?"

He met her eyes steadily. "Only when I'm with you."

Something about his tone—even the look in his eyes—made the fluttery wings start back up in her stomach. Her heart decided it would be great to get in on the action as well, so all she could do was stand there while her body fluttered and hummed with the pulsing flow of her blood. Aoko ducked her face, hiding behind the rose in an attempt to not let him see her blush.

"I think this might be the last time I give you a blue rose, though," he admitted.

Aoko blinked and raised her face. "Why?"

Kaito grinned and leaned in close, his breath ghosting on the exposed skin near her ear. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He pulled back before she could react, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away as if he hadn't just invaded her space and left her with a confusing comment. Somehow, she thought that was typical of him. Kaito had always delighted in being contrary.

Still, he hadn't lied about his magic trick. He never did give her a blue rose after that. The next time he'd annoyed her enough to elicit an apology from him, he'd whipped out a vibrant red rose from nowhere. In fact, the roses he offered her were always red after that. She didn't understand why. The blue roses had been so pretty, and she'd especially liked them because her name, Aoko, meant "blue child". It was like he'd tailored them specifically to her.

But still Kaito did not give her any blue roses, nor would he explain why. True, it could just be because blue roses were rare, making them more expensive, but she got the sense that wasn't it. Everything Kaito did was for a purpose—especially when it came to his magic. He wouldn't have stopped without a good reason. So she started to pay attention to the roses he gave to other people. She noticed that the colour was often white, sometimes pink. He'd only ever given blue roses to her, and then he'd started giving her red ones. He never offered blue or red roses to anyone else.

That was how Aoko found herself researching hanakotoba. Kaito was a collector of useless facts; he was also a magician who often used flowers in his tricks. She'd bet her entire manga collection that he knew all about hanakotoba. Actually, knowing him, he probably knew far more than Japanese flower language; he'd probably memorised all the meanings for flowers from all over the world. In any case, researching the different flowers left her red-faced and staring at the house next door with her heart thumping.

"Did you think me an unattainable dream?" she murmured.

He'd only stopped giving her a blue rose—the flower of mystery and endless yearning—when she had revealed her own feelings through an unintended message. She'd told him that sunflowers reminded her of him. In hanakotoba, sunflowers meant respect, radiance, but also passionate love. Such an admission would have been embarrassing except that, in turn, he had offered her a red rose.

The flower of being in love.

Aoko's heart thumped a little faster just at the thought.

Still, she wasn't sure what to do with this knowledge. It had been a month since that time they'd seen the Mustang. He'd never hinted—except through the roses, as she now realised—that he had feelings for her. Kaito had just been Kaito: still bright, still ever moving beyond her reach. It made her wonder if she was reading into it too much. It made her wonder if he was waiting for her to decode his message.

It was all so confusing and frustrating.

Maybe that was why Aoko acted on impulse. She'd never been one for waiting around. Taking the bull by the horns had always been more of her style. So, when she later found herself alone with Kaito in the garden after they'd finished eating dinner with her father, she decided to be upfront and just ask him if he had meant anything by the roses he had given her over the years.

"I read up about flower language," she explained. Her cheeks warmed, even as she struggled to get her next words out. "Was that what you meant when you said you wouldn't give me blue roses? Because you—you'd realised how I felt?"

Kaito was quiet for a moment. "Roses are good flowers to use for magic tricks."

Her heart sunk. Was he actually going to tell her that it had meant nothing?

"But—"

She glanced up at him, hope fluttering in her chest. Kaito smiled. It wasn't the cheeky grin he often flashed her; it was softer somehow, though it still made butterflies come to life in her stomach. He reached down and plucked a flower from the patch of garden near the steps.

"The one I really wanted to give you is this," he admitted.

The flower was tiny: a little crown made up of five blue petals with a yellow centre. There was no magical flourish. No sweeping bow. He just held her gaze and offered her the humble flower, so small and delicate.

"Why a forget-me-not?" she asked.

His cheeks dusted with pink. "Because it reminds me of you."

She didn't know whether to be happy or offended. Sure, the forget-me-not was pretty, and she liked the fact it was blue, but it was also such a small, insignificant flower. Most people never noticed it. Certainly it would have stood no chance next to a sunflower.

Perhaps he understood her thoughts, for he laughed and moved closer. "Ahoko," he murmured, "you didn't read up on all of the flower meanings, did you?"

She could feel her face heating again. "Uh—"

His fingers caressed her cheek, moving to cup her face. "You should really fix that."

Aoko didn't get a chance to respond; he leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth, snatching away her breath and her voice. Not that she minded. Flowers were nice, but there was something to be said for the silent language of a kiss.

* * *

So much fluff.

For those who don't know, "hanakotoba" is the Japanese language of flowers, which is used to give messages to a recipient without the need of words. In hanakotoba, wasurenagusa (forget-me-not) means "true love".

I'm not even sure how my brain decided a prompt based around a car should actually be a fluffy thing about flowers, but oh well. I hope you liked this anyway, Wxnderland!


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